


If You Give a Cowboy a Whiskey

by irishais



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-15
Updated: 2010-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-09 11:28:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishais/pseuds/irishais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime, hopefully in the far-distant future, he will look back on this and laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Give a Cowboy a Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coppelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coppelia/gifts).



> I had SO much fun with this prompt; there were so many routes to choose from, and so I really hope you enjoy where this ended up going.
> 
> (Original prompt!: Squall and Irvine, a conversation and/or mishap during traveling or battling in which one must confront the other (out of irritation or romantic feelings or some other reason, you choose). I'd love it if you could revolve the work around a non-romantic/platonic relationship, but they could have a romantic relationship too. Further prompts: ladder, 'why are you still in neutral gear?', insults he didn't know existed, water up to his chin)

_Assignment Number: 133AO3_

Team Leader: Leonhart, Squall

Assigned Team: None. Have encountered SeeD Kinneas on mission.

Assignment Type: Standard Security A

Requested Items: High grade hollow point rounds, magic supplements optional.

\--

Later on in life, he is going to look back on this and laugh, Squall thinks. But that is going to be later. Much later. If he's lucky, Rinoa's prophecy about work driving him into an early grave will come true, and he'll _never have to think about this again_.

He stares at his laptop screen in weary desperation, wondering why "because I want to kill someone" isn't an acceptable reason for a munitions request.

All Squall had to do was double check the list of SeeDs (active and inactive, Xu had been quick to point out) in the area, and he could've booked himself at another inn and been able to avoid this mess entirely, including the bruise that is now blossoming along his jaw.

Of course there was a bar fight last night, because pretty much no matter what town Irvine seems to be in, he is a cowboy at heart, and he is quite fond of smashing bottles on counters and threatening anyone who calls him out on his chaps or his hair or his girlfriend.

After a moment, Squall realizes that it could be worse— Selphie could be here, and this inn could potentially be a smoking hole in the ground.

He banishes the thought from his mind as quickly as he can. There are only so many disaster scenarios his brain can handle before he'll have to just quit SeeD and go retire to a private island where he never has to interact with anyone. Again. _Ever_.

The idea is so wonderful that it almost makes him want to weep.

"Now, now," Irvine says, strolling out of the bathroom with an entirely too small towel practically glued around his waist (a mental image Squall will never be able to un-see). "There are bar fights, and then there are bar fights, and that fight hardly qualified as a fight. More like a scuffle. A tiff, even."

Squall deliberately ignores him, and taps a key, then repositions his fingers over the keyboard in an attempt to come up with something coherent.

The pathetic part is that the only other person besides him that will see this is Xu, and he very highly doubts that she is sympathetic to his plight at all.

\--  
_  
Reason: SeeD Kinneas is a moron. _

(Delete field: **REASON**?)

(Y)

Reason: SeeD Kinneas used airship as a bargaining chip in an unassociated endeavor. I would also like to shoot him in the face and require something close range and painful for the job.

\--

There. That has to count for something.

"Don't you have your own room booked? With its own shower?" Squall asks pointedly, but the words are cut off as Irvine turns on the hair dryer, and starts doing some little dance that involves entirely too much shaking of his backside for Squall's comfort.

There's always the vague hope that Irvine left at least a five minute shower's worth of hot water, but somehow, Squall doubts it.

Irvine makes kissing faces at his reflection in the tiny mirror over the dresser.

\--

_(Delete field: **REASON**?)_

(Y)

\--

"Why're you so pissed off, anyway?"

He takes a deep breath. "I'm here to perform one mission. That mission was not supposed to involve any other SeeD personnel, much less an intoxicated SeeD on vacation. Who tried to wager Garden property in a poker game."

"But yeah, I mean, I had a good hand!"

"Irvine—"

"No, I mean, I was all over that. I totally would've won, if you hadn't shown up then, lookin' like you had a cactuar stuck between your butt cheeks, and put an end to the fun."

"You tried to bet the _ship_."

Irvine shrugged, and ran his hands through his hair. He looked like a shampoo ad, and it was ridiculous. Squall was going to have to introduce a regulation about haircuts, if there wasn't one already.

He makes a mental note to contact Quistis about that, as soon as he has a free, relatively quiet moment to himself-- quiet, of course, being the operative word in that sentence.

"I told ya, I would have won. The pot was pretty good, too."

"Irvine, it was thirty-seven gil and change."

"You know how many drinks thirty-seven gil can get you in Trabia?" Satisfied, Irvine turns away from the mirror, relaxing against the vanity in such a way that Squall will want to ensure that it's sanitized before he sets anything on there again. As it is, it's looking like he might have to burn his razor, since he's pretty sure Irvine's sitting on the handle.

"I went into _space_ for that ship--"

\--  
_  
Reason: Irvine attempted to bet the Ragnarok in a poker game, against team leader's knowledge, in a backwater ass-end of the world bar. Team leader intervention was required, as was the use of force to break up the brawl that followed. _

Additional Notes: Personal command note: SeeD Kinneas should be strung up by his toes and forced to listen to all of the "Happy Happy Chocobo" jingles for thirty-five straight hours.

(Please click **SUBMIT** after all fields are filled out.)

\--

"Besides, you ought to be in more scuffles like that. I was pretty impressed with how you beaned that guy in the head with the bar stool."

"That was a defensive maneuver, and will be reported as such," he replies through gritted teeth, gesturing toward the computer, as if he's got his briefing already typed up and ready to be sent.

Irvine snorts. "Defensive, sure."

_You will laugh about this later_, Squall repeats mentally. _If you kill him, the amount of paperwork goes through the roof._

"Anyway, I'm gonna go downstairs and get breakfast. You should come. They do good eggs here."

"Are you going to put pants on first?"

"...Oh. Yeah. I guess."

Whistling, Irvine wanders back into the bathroom, and as soon as the door is shut behind him, Squall lets out a strangled yell of frustration.

A second later, the door opens, and Irvine sticks his head out. "You say somethin'?"

It takes every last ounce of willpower that Squall has in his body not to hurl his computer at Irvine's head.

\--

_(Are you sure you want to close **Document: REQUISTIONS FORM 1033B**? Once you perform this action, you cannot undo it.)_

(Y)


End file.
